Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.
Note: So ... this ended up a bit long. Really long, actually. That's what I get for having 35 tributes and not lumping them in groups like I did last time around. I thought about splitting it up into two chapters after I finished up with the Career districts but decided it was better to just keep plodding along, so ... here you go. Super long chapter.
Anyway.
Results of the bloodbath poll are up on the website. There's a new poll up on my profile, and this one will actually have an effect on the Games. Yep, it's time for the sponsor poll. For my newcomers, this is what I do in lieu of a sponsor system. Mostly because I'm not organized enough to keep track of a real one, but also because I'm too much of a control freak to let you dictate what you want to send your tributes and when. So here's how this works:
Cast your vote for the tribute(s) you would sponsor. You can use whatever criteria you like; this is all about who you would sponsor. The top three tributes (occasionally one or two more in the event of a tie) will receive a sponsor gift at some point during the Games, provided they survive the bloodbath. If they don't make it out of the bloodbath, the gift will pass to one of their allies, or to a district partner if they don't have any allies or if their allies are also toast. These may not be the only tributes who get sponsor gifts, but a certain amount of reader support right now guarantees that they'll at least get something. However, I get to decide what that something is, and when they get it.
Vote for as many or as few tributes as you like. As usual, feel free to vote for your own tribute - I don't exactly have a way to stop you - but please don't only vote for them. If they're the only one you'd like to support at this point, I'm doing something wrong.
Private Sessions
Strange Matters
Tamika Ward
Head Gamemaker
She had everything planned out perfectly.
Tamika grinned, spreading her supplies on the table in front of her. Everything was going to move very quickly once it started. After spending years hearing Gamemakers complain about how tedious private sessions were, she'd resolved not to fall into the same trap.
The problem was that Gamemakers wanted to keep their sessions the same from year to year. Keep a level playing field for the tributes, keep everything fair. But that sort of thinking was inherently flawed. Nothing else about the Games was the same from one year to the next. A score of six in a regular year with the typical number of Careers meant something entirely different when there were no Careers whatsoever.
Even trying to keep a level playing field between tributes within a given year was almost as pointless. Tributes were automatically judged on different levels simply because of their age, their height and weight, their district. A score of nine from a Career was normal; the same score from a younger outer-district tribute was practically unheard of, and would get that tribute targeted in a heartbeat.
So things were already different. Tributes were already held to different standards. Different enough, it seemed at times, to render the whole system of presenting skills and giving scores entirely meaningless. But it was a necessity, nonetheless. The audience wanted it. Craved it. They loved seeing those scores, having something concrete to attach to their expectations of the tributes.
Which was part of her job – to keep things at least somewhat unexpected. Which was another thing that made the whole ritual a bit ridiculous. No matter how well each of the tributes did, some of them were going to score low. And even if they were all hopeless failures, some of them would have to score high. Back before there were Careers, tributes still earned nines and tens. But those nines and tens meant something completely different now.
It was all artificial. All inflated to stir up drama. But if that was going to be part of her job, then she might as well enjoy it. So she had built in a few surprises for the tributes.
Every tribute would be given fifteen minutes, as usual. But the room they were in had been designed specifically to her specifications. Three minutes after the tribute's session began, the automatic sprinklers in the ceiling would go off, simulating a pouring rain. Six minutes into their session, a large fan at one end of the room would start to blow, simulating strong winds. After nine minutes, the floor would begin to shake. And after twelve minutes, the room would be plunged into complete darkness. A night vision camera was trained on the room, and each of her fellow Gamemakers had also been provided with night vision glasses, designed to look like regular glasses from the outside. The tributes wouldn't suspect a thing.
That was the idea, at least. If a few of them noticed that it was a bit strange for every single one of the Gamemakers to be wearing identical glasses, all the better. Adaptation was an important part of any game – the Hunger Games especially so. Tamika glanced at the clock on the wall, which read 5:58. It was almost time.
Fifteen minutes for each tribute. A few minutes to clean the room between sessions, leaving no trace of what had happened. If everything went well, they would finish between three and four in the afternoon.
As long as everything went according to plan.
6:00
Mae noticed the glasses immediately, but said nothing as she made her way towards the snare supplies. Tamika smiled a little. An odd choice for a tribute from One, but, then again, this wasn't exactly a normal year for Career tributes – something she would have to keep in mind. Mae was part of the way through a rather complex snare when the rain began.
Immediately, she jumped up, startled, glancing up at the Gamemakers. Maybe wondering whether she had done something to trigger the sprinklers. Tamika could practically see her running through the scenarios in her head. She hadn't started a fire. She hadn't gotten anywhere close to the ceiling. Finally, she settled on the only possible explanation: it was part of the session. Wiping the water from her face, she returned to her snare.
Soon, however, the fan started blowing, nearly ruining her trap before Mae scrambled to position herself between the fan and her work, blocking the wind. Tamika leaned back in her chair. In order for Mae to complete the sort of snare she was working on, she would have to loop the rope over something – a tree branch or some other structure. Not a problem in normal conditions, but in the rain…
Just as she finished and was preparing to throw the end of the rope over one of the bars above her head, the floor began to shake. Mae barely held back a scream as she reached for the nearest sturdy structure – a pole that was attached to some of the bars. Mae held on tight, gripping the end of the rope as the pole began to creak.
It was supposed to, of course. It was designed to look like it was breaking. But Mae had no way of knowing that. As the room plunged into darkness, she let go. Tamika could see her reaching up in the dark, feeling around with her hands, reaching for something high up along the pole. Then she sat down, curled up tightly until the room stopped shaking.
The lights switched back down, and Mae was clearly fighting the urge to bolt for the door. Instead, she tripped the snare, and a hatchet came swinging down. Mae ducked out of the way in time, then backed up so Tamika could see what she had done. Instead of looping the rope around something, she'd slipped it into one of the cracks in the pole. As it settled, it had trapped the rope, securing it in place. Tamika smiled a little as Mae turned to go. Not bad at all.
6:17
Consus forced a smile as he entered the room. Like Mae, he clearly had no intention of showing off any combat skills. Instead, he immediately started scrambling up one of the climbing walls. Tamika held back a chuckle. She'd been wondering if anyone was going to try that – and what the result would be.
Soon enough, as soon as the sprinklers went off, Consus lost his grip, falling into the net below. As soon as he got to his feet, he stared up at the sprinklers, confused. "What…?" he began, but got no further before he sighed, glaring up at her. "Really?"
But the water apparently wasn't enough of a deterrent. He headed for the climbing wall again, more careful with his grip this time. He made it a little higher before slipping, and this time managed to catch himself before he fell. He was breathing hard, but at least he was still making progress, even as the wind started to blow. He gripped harder, hugged the wall a little tighter, and certainly moved slower. But he was still moving.
That stopped, of course, when the floor started shaking – and the wall along with it. Consus slipped again, and apparently decided it wasn't worth it to keep going. Instead, he headed for the shelter-building station and grabbed a large piece of fabric, quickly draping it over one of the nearby tree branches and disappearing beneath it even as the room went dark.
Three minutes. Three minutes of silence – apart from the room shaking – as he hid in his makeshift shelter. Then the lights came back on, and he slowly made his way out. He didn't even bother glancing up at them before leaving. He had hid. He had given up. But sometimes knowing when to give up on an idea was a good thing. Maybe he wasn't giving himself enough credit. Or maybe she was giving him too much.
6:34
Genevieve was beaming as she entered the room. "Hello, hello, hello!" she called, as if to remind them that some people actually did enjoy mornings. Tamika returned the smile as Genevieve headed for the edible plants station. "Maybe not what you would expect from a Career," she conceded. "But I believe my weapons skills during training speak for themselves, and I figured you'd like to see something different."
It was a bluff. Her weapons skills had been mediocre even for a non-Career, but Tamika nodded along non-commitally as Genevieve began to sort some of the plants. She was actually doing fairly well, and had only sorted a few of them incorrectly by the time the sprinklers began to spray water all over.
Genevieve giggled. "And I was just hoping for a drink." She cupped her hands and drank some of the water, then popped a few of the edible berries into her mouth. "Delicious. And important to take advantage of rainwater when you can get it – especially if the arena isn't particularly hospitable. Take deserts, for example – like Jade's year. No water, except what came from the sponsors."
Tamika said nothing. She remembered that year. Or, rather, she remembered watching highlights from it. Jade's Games had been before she was even born. But that wasn't the only year where water had been scarce…
"Or take the 34th Games," Genevieve offered as the wind started to blow. "Fossil dig, and how many of the tributes realized that if you dug deep enough in the rock, you would reach fresh water? Only a few." She grinned, as if realizing something – something Tamika was certain she already knew. "Actually, District One won that year, too. Huh."
Genevieve was still rambling on about the conditions in previous arenas when the room began to shake. She immediately took shelter next to the nearest wall. "Clever!" she called. "If this were real – I mean, if I was actually worried about something breaking loose and falling on me – then this would be the best place. It's the sturdiest structure. But since actually killing a tribute or two before the Games wouldn't be such a great idea…" She waited a moment, gathering her wits before stepping back into the middle of the room just as the lights went out.
"Oh, nice," she gushed. "Pitch black. Always a hit, you know. As long as your night vision cameras are working, I suppose. Remember when a few of the cameras went out along with the lights two years ago? Man, that was entertaining. Is that why you didn't realize Basil was going to collapse the entire anthill?"
Tamika cringed. She was right, of course. The cameras had malfunctioned, temporarily leaving the Gamemakers themselves in the dark in a few parts of the arena – including where Basil was. She hadn't realized until too late that he'd found a structural flaw in the anthill and discovered a way to collapse it completely.
The lights came back up, and Genevieve bowed and left. Tamika shook her head. She'd gotten lucky, two years ago. If Snow had still been in charge, he would not have been happy with that trick. As it was, President Grisom had appreciated the boy's intelligence and recognized his move as an act of self-preservation, rather than defiance. Sometimes the line between the two was so blurry.
6:50
Justus entered the room with a bow and a smile, immediately launching into an analysis of each of the alliances that had been forming, making a point of insisting that none of them were a threat. "Take the boys from Ten, for example," he began. "Their alliance is based on a lie. Connor and Arabel are prepared to fight; Skyton and Klaudia aren't. If even one of them dies in the bloodbath – and, let's be honest, that's likely – then their alliance will dissolve almost immediately. If either Connor or Arabel dies, the other will find the others unwilling to do anything, and will probably leave out of frustration. If Skyton or Klaudia is killed, the other will be left with two tributes who are willing to kill. If the others don't immediately leave them behind, either of them would probably try to sneak away quietly rather than risk being seen as the only weak link in the alliance."
Tamika couldn't help a smile as the rain began, interrupting Justus' clearly well-prepared speech. To her surprise, Justus continued, but switched topics. "Clever. Let me guess how my district partners reacted to that. If Mae didn't panic, she probably did pretty well and went on with whatever she was doing, anyway. Genevieve probably started gushing about something that it reminds her of from a previous game, right? Not as sure about Consus, but he seems like he'd be easily flustered."
Justus, for his part, wasn't at all flustered even as the wind started to blow. "Now, the rest of the Careers? This would probably just annoy Etora. She'll probably be demonstrating some weapons – and quite right, too. She's quite talented for her age. Don't imagine this will throw her off much. Darian might lose it, though. He's got a bit of a short fuse. Macauley does, too. Might want to watch her closely, make sure she doesn't accidentally hurt someone if she's holding something pointy at the time."
Tamika smiled as the room started shaking. She'd thought of that. The trainer the tributes could be fighting with was wearing protective clothing, and he'd been warned about the room's adaptations. But so far, none of the tributes had wanted to demonstrate weapons. And if the Career alliance had decided not to show their weapons skills…
"Not entirely sure about Elliot," Justus admitted, regaining his balance. "He'll probably think it's a good joke. He has the sense to realize that no one's going to get hurt. I mean, it's not like you would actually kill a tribute before the Games. I can't imagine the president would be very happy with that."
Tamika held her tongue as the room grew dark and Justus kept talking. He was right – and that was the unavoidable flaw in her plan. She couldn't hurt the tributes. She couldn't place them in real danger. And there would always be a number of them who had the sense to realize that.
7:06
Etora headed for the knife station immediately, breaking the pattern of Careers who didn't seem to want to show off their weapons abilities. Or maybe the others were simply trying to cover up whatever skill they lacked. That was something Etora didn't seem concerned about – and rightly so. Etora nodded to one of the trainers, who joined her, a few knife in each hand.
Etora charged immediately, diving low and aiming for his legs. The trainer dodged, but as he was busy dodging the knives, Etora kicked upwards, catching him on the knee. The trainer chuckled a little; she hadn't hurt him thanks to his padding. If he hadn't had any protection, however, that would have hurt – maybe even enough to distract him long enough for her to get a killing blow in.
As it was, Etora had to dodge his next blow. The two danced around, striking at each other but never quite landing a blow, until the sprinklers started to rain down on them. Etora didn't miss a beat. She dropped to her knees, using the extra water on the floor to slide between the trainer's legs. He didn't have time to dodge as she leapt up onto his back, holding the knife at his throat.
If she wanted, he would be dead. The trainer's eyes widened, and a chuckle escaped his lips. "Time to stop going easy on you, then," he reasoned, throwing her to the floor. Etora recovered quickly, dodging one blow and then another, then reaching for a larger dagger when it was clear his reach was becoming an advantage.
The wind didn't do much to interrupt their sparring now that they'd found a rhythm, and even the shaking floor didn't seem to faze them. The trainer was stronger, but Etora was more flexible, especially because she wasn't wearing any kind of armor. When the room went dark, everything went silent. She hadn't given the trainers night vision glasses, so he was just as lost as Etora was.
Tamika realized she was holding her breath as Etora felt around in the dark for a longer weapon. She chose a staff, swinging it around blindly, until she finally struck the trainer. But it was only a glancing blow, and he grabbed the staff, swinging it around with enough force to knock her off her feet before she had the sense to let go.
Etora scrambled to her feet as the lights came up again. She dusted herself off a little, glancing up at the Gamemakers expectantly. She clearly wanted more time. But Tamika couldn't afford to give it to her. No matter how much she might want to.
7:24
Darian didn't give the trainer much of a chance to recover from his bout. He quickly chose a short blade, slightly curved – almost like a sickle. The trainer quickly chose something similar, waiting for Darian to make the first move.
At first, the boy seemed reluctant to do so. He'd clearly talked himself into demonstrating some weapons skills, but just as clearly didn't have much idea what he was really doing. When he finally swung, his movements had the right momentum, but he was badly off balance. The trainer ducked to one side, then pivoted, shifting his own weight as he grabbed Darian's wrist.
"Damn it," Darian muttered, kicking the trainer in the shin. The trainer let go. "Again," Darian insisted, striking quickly. The trainer took a step backwards, dodging one blow, then another. Darian clenched his teeth, swinging harder as the rain started to pour. "What?" he demanded, his gaze straying to the ceiling as the trainer took advantage of his distraction to knock him on the floor once more.
"Had enough?" the trainer asked, taking a step towards Darian. In response, Darian swung his blade into the trainer's leg. If the blades hadn't been blunted, and if the trainer hadn't been wearing protective clothing, that stroke alone could have incapacitated him.
"Not by a long shot," Darian muttered, getting to his feet. "You don't want to play fair? Fine. I can fight dirty, too." He ducked behind one of the nearby piles of weapons as the wind started blowing. When he emerged from behind the pile, his other hand held a rock, which he immediately hurled at the trainer's head.
The trainer ducked, but only just in time. He was shaking his head as Darian moved closer. "What's the matter?" Darian demanded as the floor began to shake. "Don't like the tables being turned? Well, Voss didn't like it, either."
Voss. Tamika had heard the rumors, of course. Rumors that Darian had killed another boy from the academy. There was a part of her that had assumed the rumors had been started by Balthasar, who had a flair for the dramatic. Or perhaps by Darian himself. But the emotion in the boy's voice now told her otherwise.
"No harm in telling you now, I guess," Darian growled above the howling of the wind and the crunching of the floor around him. "Yeah, I killed him. It was supposed to be a fair fight. It was just supposed to be to first blood. Well, I drew first blood. And I drew last blood. So go ahead and laugh with your little games and your little tricks." He shook his head as the room was plunged into darkness. "I already know exactly what I'm doing. I know what I'll have to do. And I already know I have the stomach for it. How many tributes can really say that?"
7:41
Mae went for the knives, as well, but instead of asking for one of the trainers to fight with her, she headed towards the dummies and immediately began throwing her knives. The first knife stuck deep into the target. Mae beamed, trying not to act as surprised as she probably was. Tamika had been watching her during training, of course. She knew what she was doing, but knowing what she was doing and being able to get it right every time were two very different things.
Still, she was off to a good start, and even the fact that the next knife bounced harmlessly off the target didn't do much to dampen her spirits. The next knife hit near the edge of the target, and the fourth about halfway towards the center. She didn't have the precision that would normally be expected from a Career district, but she was certainly doing well.
It almost seemed a shame to interrupt, but soon the sprinklers were spraying water everywhere. After glancing around to make sure it wasn't a mistake – that the building wasn't on fire and no one else was leaving – Mae returned to throwing the knives. A few slipped out of her hand too soon and went flying wildly, but some still managed to hit the target.
She had just started heading over to collect the knives and start a new round of throwing when the wind started. Mae rolled her eyes, but collected the knives anyway, turning the targets around so that she would be throwing with the wind rather than against it. It didn't improve her aim, but a few of the knives stuck a little deeper than they would have.
As soon as the floor began to shake, however, she finally stopped throwing, trying to keep her balance as everything started to shake. She tried to throw a few of the knives, but the floor was shaking the targets, as well, and moving targets were always harder to hit.
Then the room went dark. Tamika couldn't help a smile as she watched Mae make her way towards the targets, positioning the knives carefully. Maybe she'd been watching the clock and knew exactly how much time she had left, because she made it back to her original position before the buzzer went off. Her hand was outstretched, as if she'd just thrown the last of the knives
Tamika held back a chuckle. It was obvious that she hadn't – even if she hadn't been able to see Mae with her glasses. The knives were all positioned near the centers of the targets. Her aim hadn't even been that good when the lights had been on. Still, she had to give her credit for the attempt. Sometimes, creativity was just as important as accuracy.
7:58
Leo didn't venture anywhere near the weapons stations. Not that Tamika had been expecting him to. He'd spent the past three days at the first aid station, helping Barlen with the same techniques over and over again. He was very good at what he did, but what he did wasn't likely to lead to any other tributes' deaths.
Which was the point, of course. He was a nurse. His job was to keep people alive. And she could respect that, but in order to survive the Games, a tribute had to be willing to be flexible. To adapt. And Leo had shown no signs of that.
Instead, he headed straight for one of the dummies near the first aid supplies, picked up a scalpel, and began to slice at the dummy. Not to attack it, but to simulate the sort of injuries that might occur in the Games. He made a few cuts, dislocated one of the dummy's shoulders, broke its other arm, and twisted its ankle.
By the time it started raining, he was hard at work tending to the dummy's 'injuries.' He took care of the most crucial first, stopping the bleeding that would have occurred had he actually sliced into a person's stomach rather than a dummy's. Then he set the broken arm, ignoring the rain.
By the time he'd finished with the arm, the wind had begun. Leo immediately moved to the other side of the dummy, shielding it from the worst of the wind. He stitched up the stomach wound first, then a few of the other cuts, managing to finish with the needle before the floor started shaking.
With that done, Leo went to work on the dummy's shoulder as the floor began to rock around him. He popped it back into place quickly, then fashioned a makeshift sling out of some of the supplies that had been meant for building shelters. Just as he was reaching for a little more fabric to wrap the twisted ankle, the lights went down.
That didn't seem to phase him at all. Wrapping an ankle was clearly something he could do blind. He could probably do it in his sleep. By the time the lights came up, the dummy's ankle was set, and all the supplies had been put back in place. Leo leaned the dummy up against one of the poles and turned to go without another word.
Tamika nodded. He had done good work, but there was a problem. He'd bandaged and set both the dummy's arms in place – one because of the broken arm, the other because of the dislocated shoulder. If that had been a tribute, they would never have been able to fight in that position. Something else would have to be done – something she wasn't sure Leo would have the stomach to do.
8:14
Margo sat down at the fire-starting station immediately, and had almost managed to get her fire lit before the sprinklers ruined her plan. Margo shook her head, but obviously knew better than to complain. She got up and headed for the weapons, where she chose a dagger and nodded to one of the trainers. "All right, then. I was planning to finish the fire first, but let's go."
Tamika smiled as the trainer chose a similar dagger and Margo took the first swing. Whether she'd actually been planning to demonstrate both survival skills and weapons skills, Tamika wasn't sure. It wasn't out of the question, but that also wasn't the point. Whether it had been her original plan or not, Margo was clearly willing to adapt that plan instead of blindly forging ahead with something that wasn't working. That was something.
Margo and the trainer traded a few swings, but it wasn't long before the trainer landed what would have been a deadly blow if he'd actually been trying to kill her. Margo winced but said nothing. She simply swung again, starting the bout over as the wind started to blow.
Margo took a step backwards as the wind kept blowing. Tamika raised an eyebrow. Margo was walking towards the wind instead of away from it. An odd choice, but after a moment, Tamika could see her reason. The trainer was taller than her. Larger. As they both got closer to the fan, he was struggling more to keep his balance.
Especially when the floor started shaking, too.
The trainer had been expecting it, but what he hadn't anticipated was how much stronger the shaking was on the edges of the room. Margo quickly ducked beneath a blow, then circled around behind the trainer, almost catching him off guard.
Almost. He was still faster. More experienced. Margo circled around again, but he followed her, blocking her blows as quickly as she could swing. Margo clenched her teeth, taking a step back, preparing for another attack.
The attack never came. The room plunged into darkness, and Margo immediately backed up, as far away from the trainer as she could get. She knew – she had to – that he wouldn't kill her. That he wasn't allowed to. But every instinct was clearly telling her to get away from the situation, even if part of her knew that she wasn't in any real danger.
And she listened to her instincts. That was good. It was part of the Games. But relying solely on instinct could be just as dangerous as not listening to it at all. Finally, the lights came up, and the shaking stopped. Margo headed for the door without even looking back, clearly worried that she'd failed because she hadn't done anything in the last three minutes of the session. But three minutes were just that – a fraction of the time. A fifth. She'd used the other twelve minutes well. Tamika just hoped she wouldn't forget that.
8:31
Merrik sat down at the snare station immediately, gathering the supplies he needed before getting to work. He clearly had a plan – a plan that would probably take the whole fifteen minutes in a normal session, judging by what he'd gathered. Tamika leaned back in her seat, wondering what the boy would do when he figured out it wasn't a normal session.
Sure enough, he did just fine until the rain started to pour down on his trap. It wasn't the rain itself that was the problem, of course; no part of his trap needed to stay dry in order to work. But it was a distraction – a distraction he immediately realized was going to cost him time. Merrik shook his head, setting aside a few of his supplies, turning his complex trap into a simpler snare that would be better at catching animals than people.
Making something simpler was a good idea, but the smaller size of the trap meant it blew around even more when the wind began to pick up. Merrik cursed quietly, trying his best to use his own body to shield the trap from the wind. It wasn't a bad idea – at least until the floor started to shake.
"Damn it," Merrik muttered again, putting the pieces of his trap back together as the floor rocked around him. The trap was smaller now – barely large enough to catch a squirrel or a rabbit. But it was what he was going to be able to finish in the time he had, especially since the room quickly went dark.
Fortunately, the trap itself was mostly finished by the time the lights went off. All it needed was some bait. Tamika could see Merrik feeling around in the dark, making his way to the edible plants station. He grabbed the first berries he found, stumbled back to his trap, and placed them inside just as the lights came up.
Only then did he realize what he'd grabbed. Immediately, he let out a defeated sigh, turned, and left the room. In the dark, he'd grabbed a handful of poisonous berries. Not a lure that any sort of animal was likely to go for. Tamika nodded as the door closed behind him. It wasn't his fault he hadn't had time, of course. It wasn't fair. But nothing in the Games was going to be fair, either. And it would be better for him if he learned that lesson now.
8:48
Dinah quickly made her way to the knife station and chose two larger knives, then nodded to the trainer, who quickly did the same. Dinah took a swing, but the trainer quickly dodged. He dodged the next blow, too, then took a swing of his own. Dinah dodged, but only just in time. She circled around, trying to follow the trainer's moves. The two of them traded a few blows, and she wasn't doing badly for someone who had probably never held a weapon in her life before three days ago.
When the sprinklers went off, Dinah burst out laughing, taking a step back from the trainer to glance around for an explanation. When she got none, she shrugged, turning her attention back to the fight. But the floor was slippery now, and as she took a step backwards, she lost her footing.
Dinah shook her head, scrambling to her feet and hurling the knife at the nearest dummy. "Let's try something else for a little while," she suggested as the knife clattered to the floor, the dummy completely unharmed. Dinah made her way to the shelter station and began building. Tamika nodded. Not a bad idea, really. If someone happened to find themselves caught in a storm during the Games, that would probably take priority over most things.
But not a fight. Once she was in the Games, she wouldn't be able to simply abandon a fight if it started raining. She could run away, of course, but she couldn't expect another tribute to simply throw down their weapon and stop fighting if the weather wasn't perfect.
For the moment, though, her plan seemed to be working quite nicely. She'd draped a piece of fabric over a low pole probably meant to represent a branch, and she was building the structure from the inside out, managing to keep herself mostly dry as she secured the ends of the fabric to the floor. Then she took a seat and began preparing to make a small fire inside her shelter.
At least, that was the idea until the wind started blowing, ripping the ends of her makeshift tent from their places and spraying rain into her shelter. "Shit!" Dinah hissed, rushing to salvage her work amid the rain and the wind.
By the time the floor began to shake, she'd apparently decided the shelter was a lost cause, and picked up her knife again, charging at the trainer from behind. The trainer chuckled as he turned. "Clever, trying to catch me off guard. But not clever enough." He swiped low, tapping her on the leg. If the blade had been sharp, and if he had been trying to hurt her, it would have been a serious injury.
But he wasn't trying to. And by the time the room went dark, Dinah wasn't trying to do much of anything. She stepped back from the trainer, keeping her distance, and backed right into one of the dummies. She whirled around, startled, and buried her knife in the dummy's chest as the lights came back on. Immediately, she turned and headed out of the room as the trainer removed the knife from the dummy with a shrug.
9:05
Aleyn headed for the climbing station immediately and began scrambling up one of the makeshift trees, finding her footing quite well. She was high up in the branches before the sprinklers started spraying, and climbed down a few branches when it did, using the higher ones to shield herself from the water. It would probably have worked a little better if they'd given the trees leaves to go with them.
It didn't take Aleyn long to realize the rain wasn't going to stop anytime soon. After a moment, she broke off one of the branches and began sharpening it. Maybe she figured climbing down in the rain wasn't worth the risk. Or maybe she figured it wouldn't be a good representation of what she would do once she was in the Games. If it was raining, shelter – any kind of shelter – was a good thing. And, for the moment, the tree counted.
So she kept sharpening the stick as the wind began to blow the rain, shaking the tree a little. Then a little more. Aleyn scooted in closer to the trunk of the tree, clinging a little tighter as she kept sharpening the stick into a spear. Once the floor began to shake, however, the tree began to lean. Aleyn clung tightly to the trunk, either too afraid to climb down or sensible enough to know letting go, even for a moment, would make her more likely to fall.
If she fell now, of course, there was a net to catch her. But if she fell in the Games, it would make little difference whether the tree fell on its own or whether she fell trying to climb down from it. Either one would probably lead to a severe injury, even if it didn't kill her. She was probably right that it was better not to take the chance.
So when the room turned dark, Aleyn held onto the tree. For three minutes, she simply clung to it as hard as she could, trying not to fall. And she didn't fall; that was something.
Not much, but something.
As soon as the lights came up, Aleyn took her half-finished spear and heaved it at the nearest dummy before climbing down. It hit the dummy, but didn't stick deep enough and clattered to the floor. Aleyn shook her head as she left. She'd clearly been expecting to have time to do better – or at least to do more. But once the tributes were in the Games, they wouldn't have all the time they wanted. They would only have the time they were willing to fight for.
9:22
Arabel immediately chose a bow and a quiver of arrows, then chose a position close to the dummies to begin with. Her first arrow grazed the dummy's shoulder. The next struck it in the chest. A third lodged in its side.
Then Arabel took a few steps back, shooting again. Two of the arrows struck the dummy; the other three went wide. Clearly irritated, Arabel headed over to collect the arrows and try again. But she only got off one more shot before the sprinklers went off.
Undeterred by the rain, she shot again. But the water was making the bow slippery, which she clearly wasn't used to and had no idea how to compensate for. The shot went wild, and so did the next one. Arabel grunted, frustrated, as a third shot missed the dummy completely. She took a few steps closer, trying to adjust her aim. The next arrow missed, as well, but it was a lot closer than the last few, and the next one finally struck the dummy in the stomach.
Satisfied, Arabel backed up again and took another shot, grazing the dummy's head. The next arrow struck the dummy's shoulder, and the next flew close to its thigh. Just as she was beginning to get the hang of it, however, the wind began to pick up. Arabel immediately threw the bow to the floor, disgusted.
After a moment, however, she thought better of it, and quickly chose a position on the other side of the dummies so that she could shoot with the wind rather than against it. The first shot flew over the dummy's head, and the next just above its shoulder. Arabel took a few steps closer and tried again, this time striking the center of its chest. Grinning, she backed up a little. Then a little more.
The next two shots hit the target, but as soon as the floor began to shake, her shots went wild. She could barely keep her own balance, let alone try to hit a target while it was shaking back and forth. Arabel threw the bow to the floor again, but this time raced towards the dummy and tackled it to the floor, grabbing a nearby knife and stabbing at it as rapidly as she could as the lights went off.
By the time they came back on again, the dummy was a mangled mess, and Arabel was smiling a little. Maybe she'd just needed to let off some steam after the frustration of having her demonstration seemingly ruined. And it wasn't as if the dummy had been able to fight back. But at least it was something none of the other tributes had attempted yet.
9:39
Emmett headed to the knife station immediately and chose a blade, but instead of asking the trainer to fight or going after one of the dummies, he ran the knife along his index finger, drawing a little blood before running the finger along his lips. "Strange," he muttered. "You always hear about a thirst for blood. A thirst, as if it's something sweet. But it's not really about the taste, is it." He inhaled deeply. "It's about the smell."
The trainer took a step forward, glancing at Tamika, but she shook her head. The boy wasn't planning to harm himself; that wasn't what this was about. Emmett's voice was low as he continued. "I was fourteen the first time I smelled it – really smelled it. Sure, people had gotten hurt during training before … but never quite like that. It's different, isn't it, when you mean to hurt someone. It's a different smell. A different taste. A different feel."
He ran the knife along the back of his hand. A tiny slice, but this time Tamika nodded a little. The trainer stepped forward again, ready to take Emmett's weapon away. Emmett chuckled a little. "Of course. Wouldn't want to rush things. You're all too happy to satisfy the audience's desire for blood – but only on your terms. Only once the Games start."
He tossed the knife to the trainer as the sprinklers began dousing him with water. Emmett shook his head as the trainer caught the knife. "That's all I ever wanted, you know – for it to be on my terms. To be the one in control. But that's the problem, you see. I can't control it. Once I start … I know I won't be able to stop. And maybe that's what you want. Hell, maybe it's even what I want. But I don't really know. I've never known. I've never really been in control, never been able to satisfy that desire." He cocked his head a little, staring straight at her. "Have you?"
Tamika resisted the urge to look away. It wasn't about that. It had never been about that. She hadn't become a Gamemaker out of a desire to watch the tributes suffer. There were those who had, of course. But they didn't usually last long. Because it was about exactly that – satisfying their thirst. They didn't understand what the Games were really about.
It wasn't about her. It wasn't about the tributes. It wasn't even about the Capitol audience. Not really. They enjoyed it, of course. They sponsored the tributes. But the purpose – the real purpose – of the Games had always been to keep the districts in line. Nothing more, nothing less.
Emmett didn't seem to understand that, either. He continued on as the wind started to blow, as the floor began to shake, as darkness filled the room. He seemed to understand his place in the Games quite well, but that was all he understood, in the end. Whatever he thought of himself, whatever anyone else thought of him, the Games weren't about him. And they never would be.
9:55
Ronan quickly headed for the weapons stations and chose the first weapon he found – a double-bladed axe. He flashed a grin at the trainer, who quickly chose a similar axe, though not quite as bulky. Ronan took the first swing, then the next. The trainer simply dodged out of the way. Ronan swung again, and again, narrowly missing his target every time.
After a few minutes of dancing back and forth, Ronan was clearly beginning to tire. By the time the sprinklers started to rain down on them, Ronan burst out laughing, grateful for the water to cool him off. "Thanks!" he called, breathing hard between strokes. "I was just wishing for a little something to cool down!"
Just as he said it, however, the trainer finally swung, catching Ronan off-guard. "Shit!" he muttered as he barely managed to dodge the trainer's blow in time. But he recovered quickly. "I was wondering when you were going to start fighting back."
The trainer smirked. "Once you were tired enough to make a mistake."
Ronan forced a smile. "Who's tired? I could do this all day?" As if to make his point, he swung again – hard. But as the trainer stepped out of the way, Ronan kept going, crashing into one of the dummies. He barely recovered his balance in time to roll out of the way of the trainer's next blow. As he scrambled to his feet, he grabbed a smaller dagger from the nearest pile. "Time for something else, I think."
"Good idea," the trainer agreed, swapping his own axe for a smaller blade, as well. Ronan barely gave him any time to choose his weapon before lunging, aiming a little too high. The trainer ducked, aiming for Ronan's legs, tapping them a little as he circled and the wind began to blow.
Ronan kicked, frustrated, as the trainer leapt out of the way again. His new weapon was lighter, but it didn't have as much of a reach, and the trainer was clearly quicker. Ronan swung again, stepping closer – but not close enough to allow the trainer to hit him. The two of them traded blows until the floor began to shake beneath their feet.
Ronan staggered a little, struggling to keep his balance. His jaw was clenched tightly, maybe biting back a comment about how unfair this was. His smile was gone, and he said nothing as he lunged at the trainer again, continuing their dance until the lights went off. Immediately, Ronan froze, then began backing up in the dark. Farther and farther from the trainer, until he was pinned up against the wall. He stood motionless until the lights came back up again, then turned and left without a word.
10:12
Retro didn't glance at the trainer as he entered. He didn't even look up at Tamika and her fellow Gamemakers. He simply headed straight for the snare station and began building a small trap. At least, it looked like a small trap at first, barely large enough to catch a squirrel or maybe a rabbit. But as the seconds ticked away, the trap grew a little larger. Then a little more. Retro kept adding bits and pieces to the trap even as the rain began to pour down on him. He shook his head a little, only focusing harder on his work as he realized it would take longer to finish.
It did take longer, but as the wind began to blow, he kept adding pieces to his trap. A few of them blew off in the wind, but he kept going. A little rope here, a little bit of wire there. By the time the floor started to shake, the trap was large enough to perhaps catch another tribute – but only if they happened to step in exactly the right spot.
That didn't seem altogether likely, especially with the floor shaking like this. Bits and pieces began to fall off the trap. Retro cursed under his breath as he struggled to piece his trap back together as one piece and then another flew off. "Okay," he muttered to himself. "Okay, get it together."
But he didn't get it together. The room went dark, and Retro immediately panicked, backing up into one of the poles behind him. He let out a yelp of surprise as he whirled around in the dark, maybe expecting one of the trainers behind him. But there was no one there.
Tamika shook her head as the boy fumbled around in the dark, trying to find his way back to his trap in time to spring it. Even in the dark, he had to know his time was running out. It wasn't his fault, really. He'd never prepared for this. He'd probably never imagined himself in this position.
But most of them probably hadn't. That was the beauty of the Quell – and the tragedy, really. It was a little reminder that not even the most prepared districts were safe, that even loyal districts were only protected by the favor of the Capitol. As soon as the president said the word, unprepared children from Career districts could be chosen just like the rest.
Retro was breathing hard by the time the lights finally came up. He glanced around, surprised. Disoriented. He had clearly thought he was somewhere near his trap, but he'd made his way to the opposite side of the room. He turned and left, leaving the bits and pieces of his trap behind him on the floor.
10:30
Vashti let out a sigh as he entered the room – a sigh he didn't even try to hide. He glanced briefly at the weapons, but quickly decided against it. Right choice. He'd been trying his best during training to protect himself, trying not to let the other tributes know his secret.
It wasn't a secret from her, of course. Tributes' medical histories were open to the Gamemakers, for whatever that information was worth. Most districts didn't keep much in the way of records, of course, aside from the necessary birth and death records required by the Capitol, and a record of who had taken tesserae. But District Five was more fortunate than most, and Vashti's condition had been properly diagnosed by the time he was eleven.
Not that being able to put a name to it was going to help him in the Games. He had to be careful even now, and he clearly knew it. So instead of picking up a weapon, he immediately headed for the survival stations and began fashioning some makeshift armor out of the snare supplies. He wasn't doing a bad job of it, either, until the rain started.
Then he panicked. The rain itself wasn't going to hurt him, of course, but he was smart enough to figure out that the rain wouldn't be the end of it. He immediately changed course from his armor and began building a shelter instead – a shelter to protect himself from the rain, but also from whatever might follow.
By the time the wind began, he'd built a small fort out of a few of the larger shields, tied together with rope from the snare station. It wasn't much, but it was enough for him to huddle inside while the wind blew, the rain pelting the outside of his shelter. Tamika nodded. Maybe he wasn't actively doing much, but he was keeping himself safe. That was something.
Something, yes. But not much. And certainly not everything. Once the tributes were in the Games, how long could someone last if they had to be careful of every scrape and scratch? Every one of the forty nine Victors so far had been injured at some point during the Games. Some had fared better than others, of course, but none had emerged without a scratch.
There was a first time for everything, of course, but was this really going to be it? Tamika glanced around as the lights went out and Vashti huddled inside his shelter, waiting for it to be over. Waiting for everything to pass. Once they were in the Games, though, how long would it be before he was put in a position where he couldn't simply wait for the worst to pass before acting? How long before something – anything – caught up to him? It wouldn't take much, really. It wouldn't take much at all.
The lights came back up, and Vashti's face grew red as he emerged from his shelter, glaring up at the Gamemakers. But he said nothing as he stormed out the door. What was there to say? He knew what she had been trying to do. He understood. But what could he have done differently?
10:47
Macauley headed for the knife station, stuffing a few of the smaller throwing knives into her pockets – probably for later use. Then she turned to the trainer, grinning as she chose a small dagger. "Well? Let's get to it."
They did. Macauley made the first move – and the next, and the next, barely giving the trainer time to dodge her blows before striking again. Maybe she wasn't quite on par with Careers from a regular year, but this year … well, this was already one of the better performances they'd seen so far.
When the rain began, however, everything changed. Macauley leapt back from the trainer, startled. "What's going on?" she demanded, turning towards the Gamemakers. "What is all this?"
Tamika didn't answer. She simply nodded. In reply, the trainer lunged at Macauley, who staggered backwards before regaining her composure and striking again. After a moment, she pulled one of the knives from her pocket and hurled it at a target as she and the trainer continued to trade blows. It struck the target, but only on the outside. "Slipped because of the stupid rain," Macauley growled.
She was more careful next time. The knife didn't slip, and it hit almost the center of the target. "Yes!" Macauley grinned, giving the trainer just enough time to circle around and tap her on the back with his dagger. "Hey!" she shouted, her face growing red, realizing her mistake. She'd stopped to celebrate – something that could be dangerous once the Games began.
Just then, the wind started to pick up. Macauley let out a little yelp as the next knife nearly blew out of her hand. "What the hell?" she demanded, but, when she got no response aside from the trainer's next swing, the pair of them resumed their fight. She was doing well until the floor started to shake, throwing her off balance and allowing the trainer, who was quite used to it by now, to gain the upper hand.
Macauley snarled as she lunged, a little too hard and a little too fast. Her own weight propelled her forward; all the trainer had to do was step out of the way and allow her own momentum to carry her headfirst into one of the dummies, which broke her fall quite nicely. "Good aim," the trainer joked.
Macauley's face reddened again, and she scrambled to her feet and lashed out quickly just as the room went dark. "Damn it!" she shouted, loud enough, Tamika was certain, for the tributes in the next room to hear her despite the thick walls and door. Tamika held back a chuckle, resolving to wipe the smile off her face by the time Macauley could see her again. She leaned back a little in her chair as Macauley, at a loss for anything else to do, began stabbing at the dummy she'd fallen onto.
Not a bad way to spend her remaining time, but not really the best use of it, either. By the time the lights came back on, Tamika's face was expressionless once more, but Macauley didn't even glance up to see it. She turned and stormed out of the room, only stopping once she reached the door and realized she still had a few knives in her pocket. She threw the remaining three knives at the target, where they lodged nicely towards the center.
11:05
Elliot headed for the spear station as soon as he entered the room, but instead of picking one from the pile, he chose a long, wooden staff and began sharpening it into a spear on one of the nearby rocks. He worked quickly, decisively, knowing he couldn't afford to waste time being careful. It took time, of course, to get the balance of a spear just right. But time wasn't something they would always have in the Games, and certainly wasn't something he would have right now.
After a few minutes, the rain began to pour, drenching both the staff he was sharpening and the rock he was using to sharpen it. Elliot bit his lip, holding back whatever he was about to say. He knew it wasn't much good trying to sharpen damp wood. But he obviously didn't want to accept that he'd just wasted three minutes, either. So he stood up, half-sharpened spear in hand, and nodded to the trainer.
The trainer was smiling as he chose a fully formed spear from the pile. The rain fell harder, and Elliot quickly saw the flaw in his plan. Even if he had managed to fully sharpen the spear, it was now wet. Every blow from the trainer's spear was quickly breaking pieces off his own weapon. A few small splinters at first, but the harder the rain poured, the wetter the wood became.
By the time the wind started, Elliot was fighting to hold his own weapon together. "Great," he muttered as the trainer's spear finally broke the wood in two. He tossed the weapon aside and grabbed another – an actual spear this time – in time to block the trainer's blow. The two of them danced back and forth, dodging and blocking each other's blows, as the floor began to shake beneath them. Elliot managed a smile in Tamika's direction as he lunged, trying to sweep the trainer's feet out from under him.
It didn't work, but he also didn't make the same mistake Macauley had. He hadn't put all of his weight into the lunge, and was able to control it a little better. He only stumbled a little, quickly regaining his balance in time to block a few more blows before the room went dark.
Confused, Elliot started swinging his spear. The trainer backed away as soon as he realized what the boy was doing. There didn't seem to be any pattern to Elliot's swings; he obviously didn't know where the trainer was. But this had apparently seemed like a better idea than standing there and doing nothing for the remainder of his time.
And on that count, at least, Tamika definitely agreed with him. By the time he was finished, every dummy nearby lay in pieces, and Elliot was grinning as the lights finally came back up. Not bad against someone who couldn't fight back, and even the trainer had had the sense to back away. Not bad at all.
11:24
Lena was smiling a little as she headed for the edible plants station. "It's nearly lunchtime," she commented. "Maybe time to cook up a little meal." She chose a few of the edible plants and tossed them into an overturned shield, using it as a makeshift bowl. "Not a bad lunch, especially in the arena. You'd be lucky to find this much food, usually, a few days into the Games."
She tossed in a few more plants, calmly narrating. "A few days … Yeah, that's usually the amount of time it takes for tributes to be really hungry. Hungry enough that they might just grab whatever's handy and hope that it's edible. Hungry enough to be desperate. Hungry enough to convince themselves that, no, this isn't that poisonous plant they saw during training – just one that looks like it." She tossed in a few poisonous berries as the rain began to fall.
Lena barely seemed to notice the rain. "The trick, of course, is getting the other tributes to actually eat what you've prepared. If a tribute happens to come across your camp, I suppose, and if they look dangerous enough, you could try to run and hope they count themselves lucky to stumble across your food. Hope that they're more hungry than they are bloodthirsty, and they might leave you alone if it means getting their hands on a good meal sooner. Or … a not so good meal."
The wind began to blow, mixing a few of the plants together. Lena smiled a little as she sorted them back out again, mixing a little of this and a little of that. As the floor began to shake, she chose two small sheaths from the dagger section and brought them over to her pile of plants. She mixed a little of this and a little of that, then looked up, as though waiting for something.
She didn't have to wait long. The room went dark. Tamika heard a bit of a scuffing noise as Lena turned her back to the Gamemakers, mixing something together. A little scraping here, a little stirring there. Tamika could see what she was doing, but not the specific plants she was using. Smart. Almost as if she'd been expecting…
As the lights came back up, Tamika held out the pair of sheaths, each brimming with the liquid she had poured into them. "One's poison; the other isn't," she remarked casually. "Care to take your chances?"
Tamika practically giggled as she leapt down from her chair, snatching the sheath from Lena's left hand and taking a big gulp. "Wait!" Lena cried, and the panic in her voice gave her away. She hadn't really expected anyone to take her up on it. But Tamika headed back to her seat calmly, completely unharmed.
Lena stared – at Tamika, and then at the drink that remained in her hand. "But … but that one was poison."
Tamika raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?"
"I…"
"Sure enough to bet your life?" Tamika nodded towards the drink in Lena's hand.
Lena hesitated a moment, but then shook her head, pouring the drink out on the floor. "No."
Smart girl. Tamika smiled as Lena left the room. The girl had no idea. None of them did. There were never really poisonous berries available for the tributes before the Games. Oh, they looked exactly like the poisonous ones, of course, but they'd been genetically modified to be harmless. They couldn't have a tribute keeling over at one of the edible plants stations because they'd made a mistake – or, worse, deciding to take the easy way out before the Games started. No one had really been in any danger – least of all her.
But it was the timing that had been suspicious. Almost as if Lena had known it was going to get dark enough to try to pull her trick off. Tamika glanced at the other Gamemakers, who nodded. Finally.
11:42
Charu quickly headed for the climbing station and began scurrying up one of the steeper inclines. Tamika nodded. She'd been watching during training, of course, and Charu had gotten pretty good at the obstacle course. Not really surprising, then, that she would choose to show off those skills rather than her meager weapons skills.
In fact, she'd barely spent any time at the weapons stations over the last three days. She'd done a little of this and a little of that, but most of her time had been spent at stations that seemed a bit more fun. Climbing, running, the obstacle course – all useful things, perhaps, but without the weapons skills to go with them…
Tamika glanced up as Charu made it to the top of the wall just as the rain began to pour. Not bad at all. She certainly had speed on her side. But was she going to be able to make it down the slope in the rain? That was the real question.
It was a question that didn't get answered. Charu chuckled as the rain continued to drench the room, then leapt into the net below, bouncing a little before rolling off. Not a bad idea, all things considered. At least she'd recognized that she would have fallen, anyway, and decided this would be a quicker way to get on with things.
Or maybe … maybe jumping had just seemed like more fun. Charu was still grinning as she headed for the wall again, going slower this time because of the rain – especially when the wind began to blow. She clung to the handholds she had found, getting her bearings amid the wind. But when the floor began to shake, she leapt into the net once more, scrambling out of the way, trying to find somewhere solid to stand.
Of course, there was nowhere, but that didn't stop her from dancing around, trying to find a position where she wouldn't fall over. If nothing else, she would be able to hold her own if it came down to a dancing match with another tribute.
Which it wouldn't.
By the time the lights went off, Charu was still bouncing all over the place, trying not to fall over, trying not to run into the dummies, trying to keep moving as the floor shook beneath her. Unlike so many of the other tributes, she didn't stop moving when the lights went out. She kept going, her hands outstretched to keep from running into anything as she kept circling the room. She was still smiling when the lights came up, and took a little bow before leaving the room.
11:59
Nephelle took a seat at the plants station and began sorting the plants into three different piles. It took Tamika a few moments to work out what the third pile was. "Edible" and "non-edible" were fairly obvious, but there was a third pile off to the side, smaller than either of the others. But when Tamika finally put it together, she smiled, satisfied.
Nephelle kept sorting as the rain began to fall, placing an overturned shield over each of the piles. She even started humming a little as she went, a quiet tune that seemed to keep time with the rain. Tamika held back a laugh. If she was going to hum during the Games, during a rainstorm seemed a reasonable time to do it. No one was likely to hear her over the sound of the rain, especially when it was joined by the wind.
It was Nephelle's turn to hold back a laugh when the wind started. "Good thing I was already using these," she noted, tapping one of the shields as she slid a few plants underneath. "Otherwise, those things would be all over the place, and I'd have to start again."
She was right, of course. But the way she'd said it … there was something suspicious about it. Almost as if she'd been expecting it to start raining, expecting the wind to start blowing. Then, sure enough, as the floor began to shake, she placed a few heavier objects on top of each of the shields, holding them fast as she retreated to the hatchet station, leaving her sorted piles intact beneath the shields.
She wasn't quite as good with the hatchet, especially with the floor shaking beneath her, but she managed to chop a few arms off some of the smaller dummies before the lights went out. Just before it did, she flung the hatchet at one of the nearer targets, where it stuck with a thud on one of the outer rings.
Not bad. Nephelle made her way back to her piles, ready when the lights came up to flip over the lids for examination. "Edible and non-edible," she explained, pointint to two of the piles. "Know what these ones are?" She pointed to the third.
Tamika nodded. "I believe so … but please, for any of my colleagues who may not have figured it out…"
Nephelle smiled a little. "Edible, but better to avoid unless you have a good water supply. Anything salty, anything that will make you thirsty or take more energy to chew up than it would actually give you." She shrugged. "Just because it's edible doesn't mean it's good for you."
12:16
Thomas glanced around uneasily as he entered the room, as if worried that the room might explode … or maybe that a storm would start. Tamika leaned back in her chair. Someone had been giving the other tributes hints about what was coming. She had a couple of guesses about who, but that wasn't important right now. They would figure out later who was responsible.
What was important now was what the tributes did with that information, and Thomas seemed more inclined to ignore whatever advice had been given to him. He quickly chose a small axe and nodded to the trainer, who chose a similar one. Thomas took a step forward, then another, as if reluctant to make the first move. The trainer shrugged. "Whenever you're ready. I've got all day."
He did. But Thomas didn't. He circled a little longer before the first drops of rain spurred him into action. He swung, but he was holding back, as if worried that he might actually hurt the trainer.
He wouldn't, of course. The Capitol wasn't stupid. They took precautions. The weapons weren't really sharp enough to do any damage through the trainer's protective clothing, and it wasn't as if he was going to be stupid enough to actually allow himself to be struck in any case. But as Thomas swung again, he clearly wasn't putting all his effort into it.
Maybe it was conscious. Maybe it wasn't. It didn't really matter, in the end. Once he was in the Games, it wouldn't matter whether he was actively trying to spare another tribute's life, or whether his subconscious held him back. The result would be the same. Tributes who weren't willing to kill didn't last long.
Or maybe … maybe he was holding back. Pretending to be reluctant to kill. Tamika leaned back in her chair as the wind began to blow, followed by the rumbling as the floor began to shake. She was probably giving him more credit than he deserved. Feigning reluctance might be useful around more reluctant allies who might be frightened away if a tribute appeared too bloodthirsty, but would do little now unless he was deliberately trying to get a low score.
The room went dark, and Thomas went still. Absolutely still. For three minutes, he barely moved, as if frozen in his spot. When the lights came back up, he glanced around for a moment before laying the axe back in its place and calmly leaving the room.
12:33
Mariska started by choosing an assortment of knives, sticking some in her pockets and placing the rest in a pile off to one side for later use. She chose one of the larger ones first and flung it at the nearest target. It bounced off harmlessly, but Mariska didn't even glance up at the Gamemakers as she fired another one. Then another. The third – a smaller knife than the others – finally stuck, and the fourth struck a little closer to the center.
The fifth went wide, and the sixth a little too high, but the seventh stuck nicely in the bottom of the target. Not bad for someone who probably hadn't held a weapon until recently. Mariska glanced at the clock. She seemed to be counting down.
Just as the sprinklers went off, Mariska retrieved her first knife – the big one – and charged at the trainer. There was no hesitation in her movement, no reluctance, no doubt. But also no chance that she would actually harm anyone; the trainer still had more than enough time to prepare for her attack, and blocked the blow with a knife of his own.
Mariska growled, as if, for a moment, she'd actually been hoping that she might be able to hurt him. But surely she realized what that would mean. If one tribute accidentally harmed another, that might be dismissed as an accident. Even an early death during training might be forgiven. But if a tribute actually managed to seriously harm a trainer…
Tamika shook the thought from her head as the pair of them traded blows. In fifty years of the Games, no trainer had been seriously harmed. The only ones who had come to scoring a serious blow were Careers, and they knew when to stop. This year, there were only a few proper Careers, anyway, and they'd already had their turn. It would only get more tedious as the day went on.
Mariska and the trainer continued to spar as the wind picked up speed. Only one more year, and everything would return to normal. Twenty-four tributes. By this time, she would be done; Mariska was the twenty-fourth, and she was nearly finished. She circled around behind the trainer and lunged at his legs just as the floor began to shake beneath their feet. Caught off-guard, the trainer didn't have time to dodge properly and instead kicked the knife out of Mariska's hand. "Bastard!" Mariska clutched her fingers, but was clearly more alarmed than hurt. She grabbed the nearest weapon – a hatchet – and charged again.
This time, however, she swung too hard, and the trainer easily dodged, knocking her to the floor, instead. Mariska staggered to her feet as the room continued to shake, managing to keep her balance until the room went dark.
As soon as it did, she dropped to the floor, but instead of staying put, she continued to crawl silently towards the trainer. He backed away, back towards the wall behind him. Maybe he was beginning to tire. Maybe Mariska got lucky. Either way, her hand closed around his ankle, and she gave a satisfied tug on his leg, then quickly scampered out of the way before he could kick at her again.
Tamika smiled as the lights came back up and Mariska strode out of the room without another word. Tamika chuckled a little, then turned to one of the other Gamemakers. "Do go get that last knife out of her pocket before she uses it, would you?"
12:40
Klaudia entered the room slowly, as if somehow unsure whether it was her turn. Tamika leaned back a little, waiting patiently as Klaudia chose one of the smaller knives, then put it back, reaching for a larger, jagged one. Then, shaking her head, she replaced that one, as well, choosing a shorter, thinner blade from the side of the pile. She looked up, then back at the knife she had chosen, as if waiting for their approval.
Tamika didn't give any indication of approval. Or disapproval, for that matter, but that didn't seem to make a difference. Klaudia backed away a little, knife in hand, before quietly exchanging her knife for a different one. She ran her fingers gently along the handle, as if waiting for something.
What she was waiting for, Tamika wasn't sure, but it apparently wasn't the rain. The sprinklers went off, and Klaudia nearly jumped. Then she turned, bending over slightly, and began retching. Vomit spewed onto the floor as Klaudia staggered backwards, trying to catch her breath, trying to calm herself down. It wasn't working.
One of the other Gamemakers stood up, but Tamika shook her head. If something like this happened in the arena, there wouldn't be anyone to step in and save her. No one to her her calm down. She had to learn that now, or…
The wind began to blow, and Klaudia frantically glanced around for shelter. Not finding any, she curled up into a ball on the floor, eyes closed, trembling as she rocked back and forth, waiting for the wind to subside.
Of course, it didn't subside. The floor began to shake, and Klaudia squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, waiting for it to be over. Waiting for everything to pass. Darkness filled the room, but she probably didn't even notice. Aside from her shaking, she didn't move an inch. Not even when the lights came back up.
The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of her time, but Klaudia didn't get up. Maybe she couldn't get up. A minute passed. Then another. Finally, Tamika sighed and nodded to one of the other Gamemakers, who strode over and helped her to her feet. Klaudia swayed dizzily as she was led from the room.
13:03
Barlen smiled warmly as he entered the room, completely undeterred by the delay Klaudia had caused. He glanced at something on the inside of his arm. Probably a note of some sort. She'd seen him writing a few things down over the last few days, usually at Leo's direction. She couldn't see what he'd written this time, but the boy headed for the first aid station.
Not much of a surprise there. He and Leo had spent almost the entirety of their training time at the same station. Barlen plopped down on the floor with a dummy and ran a knife along one of its arms, making an incision. He hesitated only a moment before selecting one of the needles from the first aid bag, threading it, and beginning to sew.
It wasn't a bad attempt, really, for someone who had almost certainly never tried anything of the sort before training. Maybe there was something to be said for repeating the same motions over and over again. His hands seemed to remember what to do even if his brain wasn't sure. By the time the rain started, he'd stitched up the incision and already made another.
As soon as the rain started, however, Barlen leapt to his feet, terrified. "Wait! What's going on?" he cried. Whether he was confused by the rain or the fact that he was in a room piled high with weapons and supplies, Tamika wasn't sure. It didn't matter. Barlen ran for the door immediately, shouting "Fire!" all the way.
"Should we get him back?" one of the other Gamemakers asked.
Tamika shook her head. "No, don't. No need to be pointlessly cruel." The boy had already shown them the best he had to offer; bringing him back to see how he handled the rest would be pointless. At least he'd had the sense to leave; part of her wished Klaudia had done the same and saved them all a lot of time.
13:08
Ti looked around, baffled, as he entered the room. Maybe he was looking for the fire his district partner had been screaming about. Maybe he was trying to figure out why he'd been called for his session after only five minutes rather than the usual fifteen.
Whatever the reason, Ti quickly shook off his confusion and headed for the knife station. He chose two knives – a smaller one and a larger one – and nodded to the trainer, who chose two of his own. Ti charged, aiming a little high. All the trainer had to do was duck beneath his blow, then turn around and tap Ti on the back with one of his own knives.
Ti gripped the knives tighter, well aware that if this was a real fight, he could have been seriously injured by now. He swung again, and again. The trainer stepped this way and that, dodging one blow after another, and finally taking a swing of his own. Ti blocked the trainer's knife with his larger one, then dropped the knife to grab the trainer's wrist, circling around and trying to wrench the knife from the trainer's grasp.
On someone else, the move might have worked. Someone unprepared, or someone who wasn't as strong. As it was, the trainer held onto the knife and circled around again as the sprinklers went off.
Ti chuckled a little, realizing. "Fire. Got it." He and the trainer continued to trade blows, not bothered by the rain or the wind. When the floor began to shake, Ti backed away from the trainer – towards a dummy. He hurled his knife at the dummy, landing it nicely – if not particularly deeply – in the dummy's stomach. He grinned. It had clearly been a lucky throw, but luck was part of the Games.
Just as he was celebrating, however, the trainer lunged, knocking Ti off balance as the floor continued to shake. Ti cursed quietly and grabbed another weapon – a longer dagger that happened to be lying nearby. He scrambled to his feet, trying to keep his balance despite the shaking. The trainer barely gave him time to recover before lunging again. Ti dodged the first stroke, but the second knocked him over again just as the room went dark.
It took Ti longer to get to his feet, but he did, slowly but surely making his way in the direction of the door, managing to sneak out just before the lights came up. Not a bad idea – trying to use the darkness to show how easily he could slip away. Tamika hid a smile as the trainer glanced around, confused, looking for the boy. If it had worked on him, maybe it would work on another tribute. Not a bad idea at all.
13:25
Aven smiled up at the Gamemakers as she made her way towards the climbing wall. But instead of beginning to climb, she took a few of the dummies and placed them on the net below the wall. Then she positioned another one beside the net, and the next a little farther away. Finally, just as the sprinklers began to pour, she chose a knife from the nearest pile, stuck it in her pocket, and started climbing.
Climbing in the rain was slow, and she nearly slipped a couple times, but she made it to the top just as the wind began to blow. Aven closed her eyes for a few seconds, getting her bearings before beginning the climb down. Climbing down in the rain and the wind, however, was even harder than climbing up, and about halfway down, she slipped and dropped into the net below her, beside the dummies she had piled there.
Quickly catching her breath, Aven drew the knife from her pocket. She stabbed into one dummy and shoved the second off the net and onto the floor. There, she jumped on top of it, stabbing a few times before scrambling to her feet and rushing off, beneath the arm of the dummy she'd positioned near the net, and tackling the fourth to the floor. Not a bad idea, perhaps, but tributes wouldn't just stand there and let her tackle them.
Well, most of them wouldn't, at least.
Tamika smiled a little as the floor started to shake, and Aven doubled back to the net, ducking beneath it as the floor continued to tremble. For a moment, Tamika thought perhaps she was going to stay there, but then she saw what Aven was doing. She was stabbing through the net and up into the dummies above her. She rolled out from under the net and the dummies just as the lights went out.
Now in the dark, she crawled towards the dummy she had placed near the net, taking it by the legs and wrestling it to the floor, stabbing wildly in the dark. By the time the lights came back up, she was sweating and breathing hard, and the dummy was in pieces in front of her. She ventured a glance up at the Gamemakers and smiled as she stood up. "Looks like he never saw what hit him," she giggled as she turned to go.
Tamika chuckled. "Wonder how long she was working on that one."
13:42
Connor smirked as he made his way to the knife station, but his smile seemed more than a little forced. She could usually tell the difference, after all, between the ones who really were that confident and the ones who could put up an act for the cameras. All in all, she preferred the actors. They were more interesting to watch, easier to manipulate into doing something rash for the sake of proving themselves.
For the moment, however, Connor didn't seem interested in doing anything particularly out of the ordinary. He picked a few of the knives and went to work on a dummy with the first one. Tamika leaned back in her chair and tried not to sigh. How many tributes so far had done something with knives? It had to be at least half. She would go through and work out the numbers later, but it seemed to be more than usual.
She understood the appeal, of course. Knives were usually one of the easier things for a tribute to get their hands on in the Games. Knives could be hidden in the backpacks at the start of the Games, and there were usually plenty scattered around the edges of the cornucopia. They were versatile, a necessary tool for tributes, especially this year when even more of them than usual lacked any sort of training.
It was a weapon that made sense. A safe move, especially for tributes who might not even be trying to score high. Connor kept slashing away at the dummies as the sprinklers went off, then as the wind began to blow. Outer district tributes knew, after all, that high training scores came at a price. It was a balance. Tributes wanted to score high enough for the audience to notice them, but not high enough for the Careers to mark them as a target. There was a perfect spot somewhere in the middle, but very few of them ever hit it.
That wasn't their fault, of course. It was rigged. Unexpectedly high scores created drama, as did unexpectedly low ones. And that was the point, after all. To give the audience something to chew on until the Games actually began.
Connor continued to slash away at the dummies as the floor began to shake. He certainly had endurance; she had to give him that. But there was something to be said for actually fighting with the trainer rather than simply going after the dummies. Dummies didn't fight back. Dummies fell over more easily from the shaking floor.
Connor kept slashing as the room went dark, swinging blindly this way and that, hoping to hit something. He did hit a few things – most notably a stack of bows in one of the corners. He muttered quietly but kept swinging until the lights came back up, then quickly left the room.
13:59
Skyton smiled up at the Gamemakers as he entered the room. "Do you have a horse?"
Tamika raised an eyebrow. "A horse?" she repeated. No one had ever asked for one of those during a private session before. "No, I don't think so."
One of her fellow Gamemakers looked up. "We have a—"
"No." Tamika cut him off before he could finish the thought. "Not in here." Letting the boy see some of the mutts beforehand would give him an unfair advantage. Besides, she didn't want him to get injured before the Games even began.
Skyton was watching her thoughtfully, glancing at the Gamemaker she'd interrupted, as if hoping for a little more of a hint about what to expect. When he got none, he shrugged. "Guess I'll just have to make do." He headed for the shelter making station and chose a large log. Quickly, he took one of the knives and started carving, shaving away the rougher parts of the log. He continued as the rain started to pour. By the time the wind started blowing, he'd carved away most of the bark and set the log on the floor in the middle of the room.
Then he waited. For almost three minutes, until the floor started shaking. Then he jumped on the log and held on as the floor shook beneath him, as if the log was an animal trying to toss him off. Was this why he'd asked for a horse? So that he could show off his skill with riding one? Tamika jotted down a note for later about making some animals available to tributes during training.
Skyton held on tightly as the log bounced up and down, lurched this way and that, just like a wild animal might do. Even as the lights went out, he managed to hold on. After the lights came back up and the room settled, he stood up, smiled up at the Gamemakers, and turned to go – but not before giving the log a gentle pat, as one might do a tame animal.
Tamika chuckled as he left. There had been a few tributes who used mutts to their advantage, and a couple who had gotten attached, including Skyton's mentor, Presley. Maybe there was more to the boy than she'd thought.
14:16
Wes grinned as he entered the room, chuckling a little to himself as he made his way to the edible plants station. Once there, he began sorting, whistling a little to himself. Or, at least, it seemed at first like he was whistling to himself. After a moment, Tamika realized what he was doing. He was imitating bird calls, and doing a pretty good job of it, too.
Not a bad way to lure tributes into a trap, really. Make a few bird sounds, convince them that there might be a plump bird or two just waiting to be caught, and then take them by surprise. Whether that was what Wes had intended to convey with his whistling, she wasn't entirely sure. But it was something she'd never seen a tribute attempt to display during their private session, so he might get credit for originality when it came time to distribute scores.
Originality went a long way with the audience, when it really came down to it. They didn't want to see exactly the same sort of Victor they'd seen in past years. That was why most people hadn't been upset when a scrawny little twelve-year-old from Twelve had won the year before. People had been surprised, of course, but not angry. She'd made an impression. She'd fought her way through the arena, tooth and nail, and she'd earned the audience's respect.
In order for Wes to do the same, however, he would need to do a lot more than sort a few plants and imitate a few birds, which was what he seemed content to do at the moment. He kept sorting as the rain began to fall, drenching his piles but not ruining them. Once the wind began to blow, however, his piles quickly scattered. "Shit," Wes muttered, his tone indicating that he hadn't realized how much time had passed. He threw a few of the plants off to one side and looked around helplessly for something to cover them with.
By the time he chose a shield from a pile, however, his plants had been hopelessly scattered. Wes tossed the shield to the floor, frustrated. He hesitated for a moment, perhaps weighing whether it was worth it to try and redo his piles. Apparently, he decided against it, because he headed for the snare station and began tying a few knots in one of the ropes, making a simple snare that would catch around a tribute's leg and leave them dangling from a tree.
Tamika nodded. A reasonable choice, given the amount of time he had left. But in order for a snare like that to work, a tribute would need to step in exactly the right spot, and getting someone to do that was trickier than it seemed. Wes didn't seem to care, however, quickly stringing up his trap as the floor shook beneath his feet. By the time the room went dark, he was almost done.
Almost. He still had a few finishing touches to put on the trap. As he fumbled around in the dark, however, he stepped in the wrong spot, springing his own trap. Tamika held back a chuckle as the lights came up and the trainer cut him down. Wes shrugged helplessly. "Well, I guess that's one way to get you to turn the lights back on."
14:33
Kilian was all smiles as he entered and headed straight for the axe station. Instead of asking the trainer to fight, however, he chose a large log from the shelter-building supplies and began chopping, swinging confidently and still smiling. Almost laughing. As if he was actually having fun.
Maybe he was. Maybe he figured this would be more fun than having to think about fighting a trainer. Someone who would be able to fight back. This was easier. But he was still sweating by the time the sprinklers went off, dousing both him and the wood. Kilian let out a laugh. "About time," he blurted out before he could stop himself, then realized that he'd given away that he'd been expecting the water. "I mean, it's about time something happened. Not necessarily water, but something."
Tamika winced sympathetically. The boy was a terrible liar. After a moment, he returned to his swinging, a little nervousness finally showing on his face.
A part of her wanted to tell him the truth. To assure him that she already knew someone had told the other tributes what to expect. Apparently, they had been very specific in their descriptions. That was all it would take to calm him down – knowing that he hadn't been the one to tip her off. That he wouldn't be the reason she found out.
Instead, she smiled as he kept swinging, watching as the wind began to blow and the smile faded from his face. By the time the floor began to shake, his expression was tightly knit into a grimace. Whether he was angry at himself, at whoever had told him what was coming, or at the Gamemakers for planning this sort of thing in the first place, Tamika couldn't tell.
Not that it mattered. Whatever the cause of his anger, his swings were growing even wilder as the floor kept shaking. He missed the log a few times, grunting in frustration as he moved it back into place. Once the room went dark, he tossed the axe to the floor, not wanting to swing in the dark, perhaps for fear of hitting himself.
There was no way to stop him from doing that, of course. They could blunt the edges of the blades and refuse to provide any truly poisonous plants, but if a tribute was really that determined to hurt themselves – or careless enough to cause an accident – there was only so much they could do. Still, it would be a shame for their streak of preventing pre-Games deaths to be broken now.
Kilian shook his head and took another step back in the dark, careful not to hit anything behind him. He bent over a little, catching his breath as the room continued to shake around him. It wasn't worth trying to keep going in the dark. Probably better to save his strength for tomorrow. He was going to need it.
14:50
Shanali began jogging immediately as she entered the room, taking a couple laps around the room before heading for the archery station and choosing a bow and arrow. She took aim at the nearest target and fired three arrows. The first one struck near the edge but didn't go very deep. The third flew off to the left, missing completely. The last arrow struck near the center of the target, and Shanali smiled triumphantly as the sprinklers went off.
Shanali took another lap around the room – this time at a quicker pace than before. As she passed the archery station, she swiped up the bow and arrows, slinging them over her back as she ran. After taking another lap, she took the bow and put an arrow to the string as she ran. Tamika raised an eyebrow, curious. She'd been watching the girl shoot during training, but she'd never seen her try something like this.
Tamika held back a chuckle as Shanali let the arrow fly. It went about as well as could be expected for someone who had never tried a stunt like that before. The arrow flew too high, clattering off the wall. Undeterred, Shanali tried again as the wind started to blow. The wind only made it worse, and the arrow flew off to the right. The next one lodged solidly in a target, but not the one she'd been aiming for.
Finally, Shanali slowed down, coming to a stop facing a target just as the floor started to shake. She took a few deep breaths, focused, and fired. The arrow struck the edge of the target. The next two barely missed, and the fourth hit a little closer to the center. Satisfied, Shanali laid the bow down and took off running again, sprinting as quickly as she could across the room.
She was halfway across the room when the lights went out. To Tamika's surprise, she kept running at full speed, stopping a few feet short of the wall. It took Tamika a moment to put it together. When she'd been running earlier, she must have been counting her steps. It wouldn't be exact, but it would keep her from running into anything as long as her path was clear.
It was. She'd made sure of that. Shanali spent the remainder of her time sprinting back and forth across the room, stopping short of the wall each time. By the time the lights came back up, she was grinning. Tamika nodded, leaning back in her chair as Shanali left. Not bad.
15:07
David was grinning as he entered the room. Tamika couldn't help but smile; so many of the past few tributes had entered the room all smiles despite having to wait for hours for their turn. Maybe they were putting on a show, trying to convince her and her fellow Gamemakers that it would be worth the wait. Maybe smiling was simply the only thing they could think of to keep from complaining about how unfair it was to make them wait until the end.
Either way, David took a little bow as he entered. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! This is the moment you've all been waiting for!"
It wasn't. Or, at least, it almost certainly wasn't. But Tamika smiled pleasantly, anyway. There was no harm in humoring the boy, at least for the moment. In fifteen minutes, they would see if he was still smiling.
David headed for the climbing station, where he immediately started scrambling up one of the makeshift trees. Higher and higher in the branches he climbed, quite quickly. Maybe he was trying to get as high as he could before the rain started.
Sure enough, just as he was reaching the highest branches, the rain began to fall. "Not a problem, Madam Gamemaker!" he called from the top branches. "I'm just going to go ahead and sliiiiide on down here." He reached for another branch and started climbing down. He'd made it about halfway before he slipped, losing his balance, and fell into the cushioning net below. He slid off the net with a grin, as if that was exactly what he'd planned to do. "Ta-da!" he announced as he headed for the shelter-building station.
"Ah, a shelter! Exactly what I'm going to need in this sort of weather!" he declared, choosing a few supplies from the pile. "Something to keep out the rain, the wind, and the occasional earthquake." He winked up at her, not even bothering to hide the fact that he'd been tipped off about what was coming. Finally.
Tamika leaned back in her chair as David started building his shelter. It wasn't much, and he certainly wouldn't have time to finish, but at least he wasn't wasting his time – or hers. At least he was doing something, and doing it with a little bit of flair. He added a few colorful berries to the top of his shelter as the wind started to blow – probably just for fun.
At least, she assumed they were just for fun until he popped one in his mouth and explained. "See, it doubles as a bird feeder. And when I want dinner…" He chose a net from the fishing station and tossed it over the shelter, pretending to catch the birds that he was expecting to come and eat his berries. "Instant bird!"
Tamika couldn't help a chuckle. David grinned as the floor beneath him began to rock. "Probably not a great shelter if something like this happens – too easy for it to fall on your head. Better dash, instead." With that, he took off running, circling the room a few times before the lights went out.
Unlike Shanali, however, he hadn't figured out a way to gauge his strides in the dark, and quickly collided with one of the dummies. He slowed to a jog and proceeded to jog in a smaller circle until the lights came back on. Then he took a deep bow and left with the same grin he'd entered with.
15:24
Orphelia shook her head as she entered. "Before I begin, I thought you should know that one of the other tributes told us what was going to happen."
Tamika leaned forward in her chair, feigning surprise. "Really? What did they say?"
"That after about three minutes, those sprinklers are going to go off." She pointed at the ceiling. "Then it's going to get windy, and then the floor is going to start shaking, and then the lights are going to go off." She shrugged. "I just thought someone should let you know that … well, it's not much of a surprise anymore."
Interesting. So both tributes from Twelve had decided not to try to hide that they knew what was coming. Orphelia, of course, was simply trying to gain some favor by tipping them off, but there was still something to be said for honesty, whatever the motivation. And that was a reputation District Twelve had earned since they'd refused to participate in the rebellion during the 41st Games.
Maybe Twelve wasn't rich. Maybe they weren't particularly zealous in their allegiance to the Capitol. But they were honest. They were hardworking. And they were loyal. Brennan instructed his tributes well, and his work was paying off.
Having said her piece, Orphelia headed for the fishing station and chose a large net, then dragged it back to the snare station. She filled the net with an assortment of heavier objects – a few rocks, a shield, and a head from one of the dummies. By the time the rain started, the net was full. Quickly, she tied the four corners together attached a rope.
She could have simply tossed the other end of the rope over one of the branches of the climbing tree she was under, but instead, she clambered up into the branches, holding the end of the rope in her hands. She looped it over a branch just as the wind started to blow. Then, instead of climbing down, she jumped, still holding the rope, her weight lifting the net on the other end of the rope like a pulley.
She quickly tied off the end of the rope and got to work setting up a tripwire. Maybe it wasn't anything fancy, but she clearly knew she didn't have time for anything fancy; the floor was already starting to shake by the time she finished. Just before the room went dark, she took one of the dummies lying nearby and tripped the wire. The net – and, more importantly, its contents – came crashing down on top of the dummy.
The room went dark. Orphelia reached for one of the items she had left by the trip wire – a small dagger – and went to work on the dummy, slicing here and there as if making sure it was dead after being caught in her trap. By the time the lights came back up, the dummy was completely destroyed. Orphelia got up, smiled up at the Gamemakers, and left.
16:00
Tamika stretched her arms before sitting down at the table with a few of her most senior Gamemakers. Andromeda, her head arena technician. Boris, her head mutt specialist. And Puck, who was in charge of delving into the tributes' lives back in their districts for any interesting, pertinent information.
She had the final say in the tributes' scores, but it was important to keep the others in the loop, to teach them the finer points of the matter. She didn't plan on doing this forever, after all, and her eventual replacement would need to know what they were doing. And they would need to be surrounded with people who were experienced. People who had insights of their own, rather than just carrying out her orders.
"I like the kid who asked for a horse," Boris blurted out before any of the others could get a word in. "Maybe we should give them something next time – a little mutt or two during training. They don't really have any opportunity right now to show us how good they'd be with mutts."
Andromeda chuckled a little. "That's because they're as good with mutts as we let them be. You know that better than anyone else."
Boris nodded. "To an extent, yes," he conceded. "It wasn't a mistake that the prairie dogs a few years ago were more docile than the tracker jackers the year before, after what happened during the bloodbath. But it's also true that some tributes have more of a … well, more of a knack for dealing with mutts than others, even when the mutts themselves are designed to be more agreeable. Anyone could have attempted to tame those prairie dogs. Only Oliver did. That would have been a nice thing to know beforehand rather than waiting until the Games to find out."
Tamika smiled. "Point made. Let's make a sampling of smaller mutts available during training. But only mutts from previous Games, Boris. Don't offer to let them see what's coming."
"Sorry about that," Boris apologized. "I didn't mean to give anything away. I just got a bit excited."
"No harm done," Tamika assured him. "The only thing they know is that there are mutts. If he's smart, he might put enough pieces together to guess that there would have been something large enough for him to ride. But that's it. Hardly a game changer. What about you, Puck?" She turned to the youngest of the three, who had been strangely silent. "Anything before we begin?"
A smile spread across Puck's face. "Glad you asked." They leaned back in their chair.
"I know who let the cat out of the bag."
"Your face, my thane, is as a book where men may read strange matters."